


Much have I seen and known

by tigriswolf



Series: Fix-it [21]
Category: Ten Inch Hero
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Child Abuse, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She remembers him. She remembers the scared little boy who hobbled into her shop five years ago, broken in more ways than one.</p><p>[Zo adopts Priestly before anyone else meets him.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Much have I seen and known  
> Fandom: Ten Inch Hero  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Tennyson.  
> Warnings: spoilers for film; maybe slight AU?  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1050  
> Point of view: third

She remembers him. She remembers the scared little boy who hobbled into her shop five years ago, broken in more ways than one. It was ninety-five degrees outside and he wore a threadbare suit under a heavy overcoat. The sun baked the street and he shivered, teeth chattering as he asked if she had a bathroom he could use. His right arm hung at an awkward angle, he couldn’t put much weight on his right foot, and both eyes were red and rimmed with bruises. He shied away when she came close.

“Of course,” she told him. “Follow the path—you can’t miss it.”

While he hid in the restroom, she swiftly ran across the street and bought a three-meat sub from the shop that had just opened. She considered for minute before buying a bottled-water and lemonade, too. Beneath the too-large coat, the boy was far too thin.

She got back to her store in time to see him sink to the ground, barely out of the bathroom. He stared up at her with weary, wary eyes. “I’ll just sit here for minute,” he mumbled. “Then, I swear I’ll leave.”

She knelt in the front of him, far enough away so that he didn’t feel trapped, a wall at his back and her blocking the way to freedom. “I am Zoheret,” she said. “I bought too much food for lunch. Would you help me so that nothing goes to waste?”

He chuckled, head drooping. “I don’t want pity,” he said so softly she could barely hear him.

She held out the sandwich, half unwrapped. “It’s not pity.” She waited until he met her gaze. “You would be doing me a favor.”

His hand trembled as he took the sandwich and she rose to her feet, went back to rearranging her shelves while he ate. She left the two bottles within his reach.

He joined her at the front nearly an hour later. He’d eaten only a fourth of the sub, but all the lemonade and most of the water was gone.

“I’m Bo,” he said. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him. “I have a guest-room, Bo. It’s all made up; I knew someone would come.”

He looked down. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“Listen,” she said gently. “I expect nothing from you except that you heal. One of my friends is a retired doctor. Will you let him look you over? That is the only payment I’ll ask of you.”

Bo’s eyes were huge when he looked at her again. “Why?”

She would have patted his unhurt arm if she weren’t sure it’d make him flee. Instead she held out a hand and he put the sandwich in it. “Follow me,” she said.

He did.

.

Over the next few years, Bo grew his hair out and dyed it a dozen different colors. He lived in her guest-room and worked in her shop. He got tattoos and piercings and she never asked who he was rebelling against or why he flinched away sometimes. He healed and moved on; when he moved out into an apartment, she gave him her old car.

“Why?” he asked, his refrain at her undemanding kindness.

She smiled. “You need transportation,” she said. “I’ll be fine, Bo.”

.

They went to the sandwich shop across the way for most of their lunches; the owner, Trucker, did not recognize her, but she had always known they’d meet again. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen Santa Cruz.

Bo steadily grew more confident, each piercing and tattoo and hair color and sloganed T-shirt another jab at whatever he’d escaped to come to Santa Cruz. She gently encouraged his interests and smiled when he bloomed.

“You know,” she told him one night at their weekly supper, “The Beach City Grill needs you.”

He stared at her. “You, you’re kickin’ me out?” he asked, and she saw the broken boy of that first day.

“No, no,” she assured him. “But you are needed there. You’ll always have a place with me, but your journey continues on.”

“I—are you sure?” His hands tightened on the silverware clutched in his grip. “I mean, I can’t leave the shop, right? You’ll be alone.”

She patted his hand. “Trust me, Bo.”

He met her gaze, his eyes ringed with make-up instead of bruises. His hair was in purple spikes and his shirt read _Kiss me, I’m pretty_. “You can stay if you wish,” she told him. “But you would do well there.”

He inhaled deeply. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll apply.”

.

They went together on Monday. She chose a table while he waited at the counter. The sweet girl, Jen, smiled at him. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I—I’m here to see about a job,” he said, faltering for a moment before pulling strength from his armor.

“Alright,” Jen said. “I’ll get Trucker.”

As she headed for the back, Bo turned to face Zoheret. She nodded, sending him well-wishes. _You will do wonderfully, my dear Boaz_ , she thought.

“So, a new worker-bee,” Trucker boomed, striding in. Bo flinched minutely. “Why do you wanna work here?”

Bo took a deep breath. “I’m trying to broaden my horizons,” he said.

Trucker laughed. “Just a couple’a questions.” He waited for Bo’s nod. “Okay, first — name?”

Bo paused. Zoheret smiled when he said, “Priestly.”

.

She remembers him well, that boy who barely made it into her shop. She watched him put on his armor piece by piece and leave Boaz behind to become Priestly, loud and strong Priestly.

At her wedding, she sees that Boaz and Priestly are both at peace within him. He is finally content, sarcastic and sweet, healed and whole. Whether he and Tish will last, Zoheret does not know, but her boy is happy.

And Trucker is radiant. After years, finally he is happy, too. She will spend the rest of her life causing him to smile and delighting in his pleasure.

Zoheret smiles at Priestly and blows Boaz a kiss. Five years ago, he limped into her life, bruised and beaten, almost broken. But he is strong now, her shy stray, her foundling, her sweet boy.

She has a husband and a son. Zoheret is so very happy, and Trucker pulls her into his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Much have I seen and known  
> Fandom: Ten Inch Hero  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: mentions of child abuse  
> Pairings: Priestly/Tish  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 955  
> Point of view: third

When her son walks into the shop wearing a ratty shirt with a faded-beyond-readability slogan and holey jeans, his hair completely unstyled and make-up that hasn’t been washed in a few days, Zoheret doesn’t waste time asking him what is wrong.

Instead, she kindly informs the single customer that the shop is closing early, leads her boy to the back, and murmurs, “Sit down, love.” She locks the door, turns to the sign to closed, and hurries back, but he hasn’t moved.

“Priestly?” she asks softly.

“Not Priestly,” he mumbles. “Not Boaz. ‘m’nobody.”

“You are somebody, my dear,” she reassures him. “Does anyone know where you are?”

He shrugs. Something is dreadfully wrong, and until she figures out what, all she can do is make him feel safe. Her apartment above the shop is still available, although about half the furniture has been taken to Trucker’s house. Zoheret gently guides her boy upstairs and lays him on the bed. 

“Rest, love,” she says. “You’re safe.”

“I’m nobody,” he repeats, blinking away tears. “I’m nobody and nobody wants me.”

Zoheret very nearly curses.

.

Trucker is still across the street at work. When Zoheret walks in, Piper is in Priestly’s usual spot, with Jen taking orders and Tish assembling the sandwiches. Trucker greets Zoheret with a kiss, then looks at her again and asks, “What’s wrong? Your break isn’t for another hour.”

“Where is Priestly?” Zoheret asks quietly, studying each young woman in turn. No one in Santa Cruz is important enough to Priestly to warrant this breakdown. Everyone with the power over him to do it is standing in the Beach City Grill right now.

“He called in sick this morning,” Trucker says. “Luckily, he’s been training Piper on the grill.”

Tish is staring down at the counter when Zoheret looks back at her. “May I speak with you, Tish?” Zoheret asks.

“I’m in the middle of my shift,” Tish says.

Zoheret looks at Trucker, who tells Tish, “Take five, Angel.”

.

Tish refuses to meet Zoheret’s eyes as she says, “We broke up last night, so what? He’s too nice of a guy, and he knew what he was getting into when he asked me out. It’s not like either of us thought it was forever, anyway!” 

“I understand, Tish,” Zoheret says calmly. “But what were the exact words you used last night?”

Tish’s hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “I told him he was safe. He wanted me to change, like he had. He looked so perfect all cleaned up, and he was too _gentle_ , and god, his nightmares kept me up all night.”

Zoheret steadily looks at her until Tish glances up and flinches. “I know it was terrible!” Tish explodes, something like desperation in her voice. “And he’s a good guy, I know that, too. But he’s not for _me_. I need dangerous, and experimentation. And Priestly looked like a punk, but he’s the safest guy I ever fucked.”

Sighing, Zoheret lowers her gaze. “So you didn’t like Priestly,” she says, “and you don’t like Boaz.”

Tish makes a disagreeing sound. “No! I like him just fine as a friend.”

Zoheret laughs. “I’ll tell him so, Tish. You can return to work now. Tell Trucker I’ll see him at home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Tish calls after her, but Zoheret keeps walking.

.

Her boy hasn’t moved except to cocoon himself in her mother’s quilts. Zoheret slowly and carefully sits beside him, humming a lullaby from her childhood. Since their marriage, she’s used it to soothe Trucker during his nightmares.

“Who am I?” her boy asks. “I don’t want to be Priestly or Boaz. Can you name me, Zo?”

“What about Zachary?” she asks, fingers combing through his hair. 

“Zach,” he whispers. “No. That’s not my name.”

“Ash?” she offers. He shakes his head. She lists a dozen names before he asks her to repeat _Benjamin_. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Ben.”

Zoheret smiles, kisses his forehead, and goes to the armchair in the corner. “Sleep a little longer, Ben. You could use the rest.”

When his nightmares make him restless, Zoheret sings again, until his expression smoothes out and he dreams peacefully.

.

In the morning, Ben talks about his parents and how no matter what he’d tried, he was never good enough for them. He talks about broken bones and bruises and blood stains, and never enough to eat, and the nights never slept through, and the teachers, pastor, guidance counselor, and tutors who looked the other way. He doesn’t mention friends or why he eventually left or the journey from one coast to the other.

All he says, as he finishes his breakfast, is, “I’ve never been enough of anything.”

“Oh, Ben, I do love you,” she says, reaching for his hand. She squeezes it tight and he returns the grip, eyes on his plate. “Whatever you choose to do, whoever you choose to be – I love you.”

“Thank you, Zo,” he whispers. He looks so _young_ , and so tired. He glances toward the window, overlooking the street that separates her shop from Trucker’s. “I’ll miss them,” he says. “And you.”

“Do what you must,” she replies. “You’ll find where you’re meant to be. And I’ll always have room for you.”

“Thank you, Zo,” he repeats, meeting her gaze. “So much. I’d’ve died without you.”

.

Ben writes notes for Jen, Haley, Trucker, and even Tish. He hugs and kisses Zoheret goodbye.

When she walks into their house that evening, she’s crying and Trucker pulls her into his arms. “Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She hands him his letter. She’s still crying when he finishes it and says plaintively, “But why?”

Zoheret simply grips his hand and holds him as tightly as he holds her.


End file.
